


Negotiation

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Crossover, Dubious Consent, Force Choking, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Mind Games, Post-Thor (2011), Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Smut Swap Treat, Use of Power or Magic During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: Loki’s eyes drift. “My magic will serve you, Lord Vader.”“The emperor-”“You.”





	Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_rck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this treat, the_rck!

The Force runs like a river current cut at a sudden bend. Vader senses no threat in the shift of energy, but its tenor interests him. Not familiar or foreign, a recollection from days past.

He lifts a hand. At his unspoken command, his Stormtrooper detail exits the Wanton Wellspring.

Their departure does not return the cantina to its previous mirth. Under the shadow of the Emperor’s executioner, the room waits in tense silence. Few dare risk the ire of the Empire, even at this Outer Rim hive of thieves. They know _of_ him, though they have not seen his wrath firsthand. Hearsay is enough.

At the counter, Vader meets eyes sharp as knives. A pale face draped behind a green shroud and thin lips curled in a smile. The Force is strong here. Vader sits.

Behind the bar, a species blue in face chatters nervously. “I believe,” the other says, “our host is unsure whether to offer you a beverage.” He quirks a brow. “With your...apparatus as such.”

Vader raises a finger. The barkeep propels against the back wall. Wood splinters, and glasses shatter off nearby shelves.

The commotion releases the tense hold on the room, and conversation resumes. Violence, it seems, is something the locals can relate to

The other is still smiling. “I suppose that’s a no on the beverage,” he says. “In that case...” He shoots back what remains in his own glass. With the bartender down, he helps himself to an unlabeled blue bottle behind the counter.

“Asgard,” Vader says between mechanical breaths.

A nod confirms his theory. “You led the Imperial delegation that met with my,” a pause, “Odin All-Father some years ago.”

“Yes,” Vader agrees. He takes in the prince of Asgard, black hair loose beneath his hood. “You are the second son. The mage.”

“Loki,” he says, and bows. “A pleasure, Lord Vader.” Discreetly edged.

His strength was a mere murmur when Imperial forces last marched the golden halls of Asgard. Vader followed its thrum past decorated guards and distinguished politicians. The Force shivered strongest around the awkward, youngest prince. Pale and dark of head, unlike the golden might of his father, mother, and brother.

Interesting, but not enough to discard the treaty between the Empire and Asgard. Odin’s realm maintained peace among the Nine. This alliance was useful to the Emperor, and Odin's youngest son was not worth breaking it for. Yet.

His energy has matured since then. It is in low tide but with potential for far greater destruction. Loki sits, a coiled viper seconds from striking. His smile is a murderous curl of interest.

“You are a long way from home, Odinson,” Vader says. The energy around him sharpens; a test.

Loki blinks.

His smile resumes quickly, even more intrigued. “Yes,” he agrees, “and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“A fugitive,” Vader muses.

Loki’s eyes narrow, some unseen nerve struck. “A ghost,” he corrects, “and better for it.” His magic shudders, static noise across the very fabric of the Force.

Vader clutches the invisible threads between them. At his unseen breach, Loki stutters. His mouth slips open, and his head shakes. A tense sound chokes through snarling teeth.

“You feel alive to me, Odinson,” Vader says. His breath rasps behind his mask, a hitch at the push he feels in return. Loki’s power is like fists slamming into his chest.

Loki’s laugh struggles furiously. “This is...quite unnecessary, I assure you…”

Vader pulls harder. Loki’s smile turns downward, a seething grimace. “This location is a den of Rebel activity. Sell-swords profit from the highest bidder. One of your talents could do well here.”

“Your war is meaningless,” Loki spits. His struggle trembles at a corner of his mouth, but he sits straight, glare fixed to the red lenses of Vader’s visor. “A Rebel informant? Do you truly think so little of me?”

He guards his mind well; it crackles with strange energy. Vader threads through the webs of resistance crusted over Loki’s mind like scabs.

A hand claws at Vader’s own; bony, hard. “Just ask me,” Loki grits. Magic weaves like fine green silk between his fingers.

“You’ve grown stronger,” Vader observes. Loki’s power sparks, and the metal of Vader’s prosthetic twitches in answer. He is stronger, yes, but volatile as a dying star.

How strong could Loki be if he were trained? How mighty, if someone were to teach him to tether his power?

Vader releases his grip on the ties between them, and the tension thaws from Loki’s face. His wariness hardens to a bitter smile. “I would be executed if I returned to Asgard,” Loki explains. “Odin believes me dead. I’m sure we can reach a," he sniffs, "mutually beneficial arrangement so that belief remains intact.”

“Mutually beneficial,” Vader echoes. He does not bother masking his amusement.

“I made an attempt on my brother’s life and claimed the crown for my own,” Loki says, shrugging. “I welcomed enemies of the throne into Asgard. Oh yes, and there was that attempted genocide of an entire race matter. They believe I perished when I fell. It's better this way for all parties involved." He smiles wryly. "Especially me."

“You fell,” Vader murmurs, pondering.

His next surge is a barrage, stabbing spears of energy that strip and tear. Loki’s mind bleeds a deluge of secrets. The mage lets go of Vader’s hand and claws at his own eyes. He thrashes and chokes back words he does not want to say.

Loki is nearly strong enough to deny him. Nearly. "Jotnar,” he hisses between clenched teeth. “Monster.”

Curious indeed.

“I could have killed them,” Loki snarls fast, the floodgates open. “My father, my _true_ father; I slayed him where he stood! Filthy, brutish; I could have killed them all. And the mighty Thor, Odin himself. I could have done it. Except myself, only myself, that was-” a bark of vicious laughter, “too much, far too much.”

Vader eases his grip. The Force shudders between them, as the final warrior bloodied on a battlefield.

With shaking hands, Loki opens his stolen bottle of spirit and drinks heavily. He wipes his gasping mouth on his knuckles. “Now you see me, Lord Vader,” he mutters, “as your emperor sees all things, I’m sure.” His once proud posture hunches in anger.

“You will come with me,” Vader says.

Loki’s smirk is like splintered wood. “And what, pray tell, does the Empire do with its prisoners? Shall I be executed by your master? Or will you torture me yourself, _Sith_?” He stands, an unsteady hand braced on the bar. “Will you assault my mind further? Will you break me? Use me?”

Vader covers Loki’s hand on the counter, pale fingers overwhelmed by black. Loki’s head snaps towards them in surprise.

“You will come with me,” Vader repeats.

Loki’s wary eyes return to Vader’s face. After a pause, he sighs. “I suppose I don’t have much choice, do I.” It isn’t a question, and Vader does not answer.

***

To strengthen, one must break. From chaos, one must be rebuilt. Vader knows this better than most. He has built his kingdom on the fires that forged him, its dark walls impenetrable by the lava currents below.

Here too, his acquisition will be reborn. It has already begun, a soft cry that echoes off high ceilings and rounded walls.

Loki is beautiful like this. Vader does not recall a thought of beauty since his turn to the Dark Side was complete. His dark hair is strewn about his sweat-warm face. His pale body is stretched by warded shackles on his wrists and ankles. Loki's magic has been silenced, a willing sacrifice.

When was the last time one trusted Vader so? Not his master, never. Another time perhaps, before he fully embraced the power of the Dark Side.

Loki’s eyes shine under the dim lights of Vader’s chambers. Vader’s shadow hovers over him, sinews of black wound across his limbs.

Vader touches Loki's face. Loki blinks sluggishly, a thrum of pressure at the edge of his mind. “Tell me,” Vader says.

“Good,” Loki whispers. “Yes. You - I feel your power. It’s like - it’s like nothing - _oh_ , yes, I-” his voice fragments, and his eyes shine like glass.

His mind is a knot of anger, threads of jealousy and desire opened to Vader’s inspection. One by one, he strokes away their hurt, leaving only pleasure, pride, need, want. Loki arches on his mattress. He gasps and twists, and his steel chains rattle. His cock bobs heavily over his stomach.

“Your brother,” Vader says.

Loki shakes his head. “He’s not my brother,” he hisses. “I don’t care about him. I don’t _care_ , I- I need-” his body strains for Vader’s hands.

“You need the Dark Side’s power,” Vader tells him.

“I need _your power_ ,” Loki says. Vader cocks his head at the response.

He traces Loki’s lips with a single gloved finger. Loki shudders, mouth slipping open. “The emperor will guide you,” Vader says.

“You will guide me,” Loki answers. He cannot speak further, denied by the fingers that dip past his lips. Loki bites down on the leather and groans at the fabric’s give.

“Your power will serve the Empire well.” His gloved hand glistens wet from the mage’s mouth. Loki’s skin bares its stripes, three lines slick from lips to jaw.

Loki’s eyes drift. “My magic will serve you, Lord Vader.”

“The emperor-”

“You.”

A curious response. Vader’s hand curls to a fist above Loki’s neck.

A second passes before the breath hitches in Loki’s throat. His mouth opens wider, a stutter for breath that refuses to come. Loki’s eyes widen. They fix on Vader’s masked face as he struggles in his bonds. His face reddens. Beneath Vader’s fist, his Adam’s apple bobs.

“The emperor,” Vader repeats.

Loki’s eyes flutter. They begin to roll back, but snap forward when he tries to croak for breath. His body thrums with tension, and his cock twitches above his stomach.

Vader presses his thumb under Loki’s chin. The skin here is soft, and Loki cocks his head back. His breaths wheeze dangerously. “Please,” Loki hisses. His cock has begun to leak, wetness dotting his skin.

Vader releases his neck. Beneath him, Loki lurches for air. “You will serve the emperor,” Vader says.

Loki answers in a painful rasp, “I will serve you, Lord Vader.”

“Why?” Vader closes a fist in Loki’s hair. When he pulls, Loki’s head snaps against the mattress. He groans, neck all tension and length.

From the shock of pain comes laughter, breathless and warm. “It’s what you want,” Loki says.

“The emperor-”

“You did not take me for your emperor,” Loki challenges, “and I don’t give a damn about your war.”

Vader cocks his head, a veiled show of amusement. “The power you seek can only be yours when you prove your usefulness to the emperor.”

“You knew what I was,” Loki argues, “on Asgard! You wanted me by your side, to teach me. You knew together-” His hips jut higher as pleasure worms down his spine. “we could do it. We could be- we _would_ be unstoppable.”

“You are strong,” Vader says. His gaze combs the long line of Loki’s body, “but pride weakens you.”

Loki's laugh is breathless. “You deny what you show so plainly! The mask doesn’t hide it, nothing does. You- you don’t-” his words shatter in a groan. He struggles in frustration. “Don’t _distract_ me. I see what you want!"

Vader curls a lazy finger. Pleasure swells through Loki's stomach. Warm and expanding, a nuclear reactor purring at full capacity. Loki shakes his head; a short, snapping motion. His cock is wet from his own leaking, and a tremor builds through his thighs.

“You’re unwise to speak of treason so openly,” Vader tells him. “The emperor is my master, as he will be yours. You will learn respect, or where you failed on your fall from Asgard, he will succeed.”

He expects more fight, but all Loki says is, “Please.” Tension hums through his chain-stretched limbs. Vader’s attention strays lower, to the wide space between his opened legs.

The Force is a current that touches all things. It winds as a serpent around Loki’s legs. Loki gasps surprise and tries, on instinct, to pull his knees together. The ankle shackles stop him. “I want you to do it,” Loki protests.

Vader’s breaths burst out, their mechanical echo filling the room. “You’ve misjudged,” he says, “the power you have here.”

The Force is an extension of Vader’s being. As it squirms between Loki’s legs, Vader feels the heat of his body and the tension tight at the ring of his hole. Loki hisses and spasms, but he’s stretched too wide to deny the pressure pulsing against him. It laps inside him, spreading inch by inch.

Loki’s mouth slacks, and he drops his head back. “Oh,” he says, as if noticing something important. Eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh,” he breathes again.

The pressure takes its time. It curls inside him, warm and throbbing. Loki groans, brow furrowed like he’s confused. His eyes war between open and closed

Inside, the pressure widens. Vader sees the subtle splitting of Loki’s thighs, how his knees bend as far as his chains will allow. His hips rock forward. His cock bobs, red and untouched.

The power inside him flexes deep. It milks hungrily, and Loki’s voice breaks in a whimper. He twists in his chains.

“Give yourself to the Force,” Vader says.

Loki eyes are wet, blinking at the ceiling. His body arches off the bed, the buzzing pull inside him growing.

“Give yourself,” Vader repeats. He strolls down the bed, casual fingers dragged down Loki’s chest. Loki looks at him with wild eyes, pleading without words. His body is a knot of tension. Each breath stutters through his chest.

The Force is not restrained by the limitations of flesh and bone. The Force blossoms, a growing thing. It spreads. It consumes, until no possible widening of Loki’s legs can be enough. Vader sees it bulging thick under Loki’s stomach. The movement of it opens him wide enough to break.

Loki makes a sound that isn’t moan or cry. He has tears in his eyes, and around his shackled hands sparks of emerald flare. Impressive, given the power in his warding.

Vader swallows the view of Loki’s body. Its taut struggle, all lines and jagged corners. His face, a mess of sweat and heat.

Vader reaches into him and blisters him warmer. Under the Aesir skin he wears, Vader finds the hidden depths of what he is. Something cold, unaccustomed to the fever blushing a line down his torso. Tears crease from Loki’s eyes down his temples. His chains clatter violently; admirable, but no give all the same.

 _Please touch me._ Vader hears his mind over the clamor of his body’s desperation. _Please._ In Loki’s weakness, he finds new strength. He is a temptation even at his most vulnerable. His cock juts, painfully red and neglected.

Vader considers him, and his own desire. Vader would take Loki in hand, he would shatter him completely. How strong Loki already is, how convincing. Vader’s eyes return to his face. The Force moves deeper.

Loki’s open mouth makes no sound. He goes bone stiff in his bonds, save the sudden bend of his knees. His stomach balloons so full his skin nearly can’t contain it. The Force burns through his veins and creases tension through his neck. Loki chokes around it on his tongue and fights to breathe against it on his chest. His mind is shards of broken thoughts and needs.

Vader looks upon him. He feels.

His gloved hand wraps around Loki’s cock. With one stroke, Loki’s voiceless need becomes a scream. His come threads white between leather fingers. Vader holds him until he spasms himself dry. Loki trembles, still taken so deep. His arms draw with tension, shuddering in his shackles.

Vader withdraws his power. It empties Loki, his body left over-loose and gaping. Loki moans at the loss.

“Good,” Vader says. Loki nods, breaths taken between shaking lips.

Vader releases him, and Loki blinks dazed eyes open.

“The Dark Side will serve you well,” Vader says. Loki nods again, gaze struggling to stay on Vader’s face. “The emperor is your master now.”

“You…” Loki swallows. “You are my master.”

Vader looks at him closely; his eyes like mirror glass and breaths whistling out. His face, sweat-damp and pink with fever.

“Yes,” Vader says. “I am your master, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes sink closed, and his body goes limp in his chains. Still, Vader does not miss the smile that ghosts across his lips.

*The End*


End file.
